


old habits (never die)

by Drake



Series: it may not be a millenium yet, but who's counting? [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands, M/M, Temporary Character Death, you know what you're here for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drake/pseuds/Drake
Summary: Joe hasn't always been the big spoon. That changes, one day. And they never go back.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: it may not be a millenium yet, but who's counting? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829071
Comments: 56
Kudos: 1019





	old habits (never die)

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, AGAIN, to Ghrelt! Two fics in one day from me, aren't you lucky c;
> 
> ps, comments feed me (as you've noticed, I'm sure), and make me pull out the word docs again!
> 
> ALSO!!! Are you as obsessed with this movie as I am? There's a [discord](https://discord.gg/kDJpjxx) now! come hang out with us and fawn over everything old guard

Many of the habits they keep are learned. Sleep with your back to the wall. Keep your shoes next to your bed and your sword closer. Everything not in a bag is something you don’t care about losing the next day. 

Beyond those, it doesn’t matter too much. They fall asleep in each others’ arms, always, back to chest, facing the door. Generally in whatever order they’d spent the earlier evening. 

It’s never mattered before.

But then, everything changes. And when guns change, they change everything with them.

Someone must have seen them the night before, gotten angry and likely jealous about what they shouldn’t and couldn’t want to have, what Joe and Nicky had, and decided to take that out on them. Anger in violence was easier to cope with than the knowledge of someone - two someones - living and thriving in what everyone knew was wrong.

They’re staying in an inn in a city of the fledgling United States, not even a century old yet. Nicky is wrapped around Joe, his nose buried in the crook of Joe’s neck, his arm snug and warm around him. It had been so easy to roll from being on top of him to being wrapped around him, to pass yet another night in the only place he’d want to be. Pressed to Joe, warmth in the darkness.

The door thuds loudly. And a second later the old, weak lock bursts, giving way. Joe makes a noise of confusion, pushing halfway upright, blinking at the harsh light of lanterns. 

Nicky’s already moving. Before Joe has even put together what’s happening or who’s at the door, Nicky shoves him down and then the sound of a revolver going off over and over and over again blasts his eardrums. 

Worse, is that he doesn’t feel any pain. Just the weight of Nicky rock into him, in the worst way, as six slugs of metal bury into his skin and kill him. 

Joe’s throat goes bone dry, and all he sees is the red- red blood, red from the firelight, red from he doesn’t know what- Joe doesn’t know. All he knows is that he has a hand on a sword hilt, and he’s gently - so, so gently - pushing Nicky’s body off of him and back onto the bed.

“That’ll show you,” the man in front says, not even bothering to reload his revolver. 

“Show me,  _ what _ ,” Joe asks, as he unsheathes the sword -  _ Nicky’s _ sword - and stands up.

They don’t get a chance to answer. 

Before they get the chance to even comprehend that he’s unhurt, he’s across the room, his expression twisted, a roar of anger pouring from his lips. He cleaves the first man’s arm off, kicks him into the other two, and then runs all three of them through with the sword. Twists, rips it backward, and sends the three corpses falling into the hallway.

He’d drop his weapon if it wasn’t Nicky’s, if it wasn’t his beloved’s. He wipes the blade clean on the first body’s leg, an action they always take, as if everything’s fine and Nicky isn’t hurt.

As soon as it’s clean he pivots, setting the sword down on the nightstand and getting back onto the bed, cupping Nicky’s cheeks. “Love, it’s taken care of,” he murmurs softly, stroking a thumb under his eye. “They’re dead.”

Nicky’s body bows upward with the pain as he takes a gasping, rattling breath. Coughs, blood spraying from his lips as he starts to heal, as the bullets worm their way back out of him, his lungs repairing, ribs fixing themselves. Once he coughs the rest of the blood out of his lung, he groans. “Joe? You okay?”

Joe makes a strangled sound,and he just presses his forehead to Nicky’s, letting him catch his breath before he steals it all away again in a hungry, desperate kiss. 

“My love, you didn’t have to do  _ that _ ,” is all he manages to say.

Nicky’s jaw tenses, at that. “Of course I did,” he says, and then grabs a fistful of Joe’s shirt and pulls him in to kiss him, hard. Takes the momentum and rolls him, pressing his weight into Joe. He knows that Joe needs the grounding, the weight of him holding him down, alive and warm and still here.

So Nicky makes it  _ very _ clear.

He’s not going anywhere.

From then on, it’s Nicky who sleeps facing the door. Puts himself between the world and Joe, and keeps it that way. They’d have to go through him to get to his love again. And he moves far too fast for them to ever get the chance. 

**Author's Note:**

> I vehemently put forth that Joe is, in fact, the soft heart of the entire group. And that's why he's the big spoon.


End file.
